


Here Are Our Letters

by starrelia (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Amputation, Deception, Emotional Manipulation, Gore, M/M, Obsession, Poison, Skinning, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9467465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/starrelia
Summary: One's enemies can come in all shapes and sizes. Some are terrifyingly clever, some are horribly unintelligent. Some are closer than one will ever realise, especially when they smile as sweetly as Genji does.When you are the second son, never taken seriously and allowed to have the freedom to befree, always underestimated and treated like the lazy child... there are some things that will always be bound to surprise people.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Based off of this post.](http://omniccrybooty.tumblr.com/post/155719532122/keep-your-friends-close-and-your-enemies-closer)

Ever since Genji has been young, he can remember that lying has been as easy as breathing for him. From the moment his father asks him, with enthusiastic grins and wide smiles, if he loves his mother… Genji has very easily said, with the sweetest smile a three year old can manage, _yes._

There are some things that one learns super early, and Genji remembers that his grasp on certain things have always been greater than they really have to be. From the way his father barks at Hanzo when he is ten and Genji is seven, demanding he keeps at his studies and work harder and harder… from the way mother looks at him with teary eyes, arms wrapping around him before she ran away with blood on her hands…

Genji has always been able to understand things far more quickly than he should. Even when people tiptoe around him, shushing one another when they try to talk about topics far too mature for the younger master to learn and hear about, Genji has always been so very aware.

At times, he wishes that he isn’t so very _smart_ that he can’t understand everything that happens—but he also _despises_ how everyone sets him aside, telling him to enjoy himself and be ever so careless, and yet treat Hanzo with the sternness and strictness that a child so young must never be victim to.

He smiles, still. Accepts embraces from his father whenever the old man spots him, because he is the _favourite_ of their father and not as harshly trained as Hanzo is. Still he smiles and laughs at the jokes that his ‘friends’ make, even when he wants nothing more than to spit on them and kick them away.

They are nothing like his brother, poor and stressed and barely sleeping… always trying to excel in school, always trying to do his best, and _working oh so very hard_ when all Genji has to do is breathe.

For all the difficulties that others have in school Genji has no troubles. For all that Hanzo struggles and strains for with Genji finds that he has no troubles.

A child so young definitely isn’t supposed to be stealing from his father’s personal libraries regarding poisons, how to apply them and – most important of all – how to _make_ them. Hanzo doesn’t care about these sort of things; never has, really. Thinking of Hanzo with blood on his hands, the blood of others, makes Genji – at the gentle age of eleven – _smile._

Hanzo flinches whenever he has to watch action movies with Genji, gets so very uncomfortable when he has to spar. The discomfort _grows_ when he goes against Genji, when he has to find himself on equal footing [something that they never are on] with his younger brother that smiles at him so widely and sweetly.

“I’m sorry.” Is what Hanzo always used to say before they start sparring, wooden swords in hand and _Hanzo’s_ instructor barking at them both. Yelling at them about their posture, about their stance, about how they are holding the sword wrong…

Yet, she always calls out to Hanzo with pressure in her voice and something cold and heartless in her tone.

Still, he smiles when the sparring is over and he is on the ground – the loser and not the victor – and Hanzo looks around uncomfortably. “We should take you to the nurse.” Hanzo says, too polite for a fourteen year old, and Genji laughs and stands up and hobbles a little. “Genji—“

“Anijaaaaa, I’m fine!” Genji says with too much cheer in his voice that no one ever comments on. “I’ll just go lie down, you can go back to studying and working.”

Hanzo smiles back then; it’s a small smile, almost unnoticeable, but it’s _there_ and Genji’s lips pull back to reveal teeth. “Take care, Genji.” Hanzo says, and he turns to leave and bows his head to avoid the stare that his instructor gives him.

He smiles still, until they are both gone and his face is impassive once more.

* * *

Mathematics is as easy as breathing to Genji. Sciences takes only a second before he immediately takes to it; biology is second nature to him, a fascination that stems from wondering how the body can be broken apart, and chemistry is an interest stemmed in creating deadly combinations. Physics, as dull as it is, is pitifully easy to understand.

Hanzo _excels_ in biology, absolutely loves it, but he struggles when it comes to history and flinches at their Japanese class.

His brother adores plants.

He spends almost every day in school, and whenever he returns he locks him up in entire the training room or in the study. Genji rarely sees him unless he follows him to spar with him, to make his gentle brother barely try and hurt him with the wooden sword when he wants nothing more than to make Hanzo bleed.

Father frowns at Hanzo, mouth twisting into such an ugly thing that Genji wonders how either one of them are related to that man. Concern radiates on his old man’s face, but the concern mixes in with obligation and duty and Genji sits by and watches.

He rests his chin on his palm, eyes staring right through his father and focusing on Hanzo far too much. He takes in Hanzo’s habit of biting his lower lip, sees the way his hand twitches up to his mouth only to fall down and fold in front of him as he is scolded for _nothing._

“Ah, Genji,” their father says after a while, once Hanzo has bowed his head down and is ready to leave. “I forgot to give you your weekly allowance. Give me a moment…” and with that, he leaves while Hanzo looks at him with a sharp gaze.

Ignoring the burning acid in that gaze, Genji gives him a wide, toothy smile and Hanzo flinches. Hesitation flickers across his face, teeth gnawing on his lower lip, and Hanzo looks away and avoids Genji’s gaze.

His footsteps make no sound as he exits the room and Genji waits. And waits. And waits. Before he too follows after his brother and finds him working on his homework.

He hides away, back against the wall and his breathing even, and Genji’s eyes slip shut as he tries to focus on the sound of Hanzo’s pen scribbling on the paper. The sound scratches and scritches loudly, echoing in Genji’s ears, and he can only imagine the hurry that Hanzo is doing his scrap work in. Then, slowly, he imagines the focus that Hanzo has in perfecting his handwriting, making sure it is legible…

So much work, so much concentration, and so much time is taken away but Genji smiles. He hears the sounds of frustration that Hanzo makes every once in a while at something that he can’t understand, that he can’t do, and Genji tries not to sigh.

When boredom finally settles, Genji slips away to his brother’s room – away from the study – and slides the door open. Plotted plants line the top shelf of the wall-shelf, and Genji swipes his arm and brings them all crashing down into a dirty mess onto the floor.

Later, Genji is sure that he’ll hear the scream of distress and absolute rage from his older brother soon enough.

* * *

History is an interesting thing. There are old books that not even the elders have gotten rid of, completely unaware of their existence, and Genji peruses them with great interest and diligence. There is so much about the Shimada clan that are within these books—some are journals from his ancestors, even one that happens to be from someone that shares the same name as him.

The previous Genji of years, years ago is a prodigy; she is the only daughter, and the only Shimada to ever have four dragons instead of the normal one or the odd two. It is from the first Genji that the current one learns from; every single thing that she has ever leant about the Shimada clan is written down in her journal.

There are certain kanji that he has to bring up a dictionary to find the old usage for, just so that he can be able to follow, but the experiments that the first Genji has done to her clan of then is _fascinating._ There is nothing kind written in her journals, nor is there anything cruel.

It is a cold thing, detailing all the atrocities she has committed to dragon-bearing Shimada members just so that she can understand the extent of their abilities.

The tattoo is the most important part of a Shimada, and the first Genji has always wanted to know _why._

Now, the current Genji knows.

* * *

“You are far too ruthless in battle, Genji.” Hanzo says, his voice more mature and far wiser than it has any right to be. “If you are ever caught in a fight, you will surely perish, brother.”

Stiff words from dry lips and a stiff man, and Genji cants his head to observe Hanzo. His older brother – shorter than him, slimmer, yet no less dangerous – sighs and places one long, lock of hair behind his ear. “Again.” Hanzo says, much to Genji’s glee, and his upper lip pulls back to reveal teeth. “This time, we will have you be more defensive. Again!”

It takes less than five minutes for Hanzo to be the victor again, having parried and thrown Genji’s sword aside and pointing his own at his throat. “No!” Hanzo barks. “If I were an enemy, you would have _died,_ Genji!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Genji says insincerely, a cheeky smile on his face. “I just trust you too much, y’know?”

His brother’s face twists into an expression of clear upset, brows furrowing and mouth flattening into an absolutely thin line for such pretty, pretty lips. “Genji,” Hanzo says, softer this time, as though worried that he’ll over step his boundaries, “there is no trust in the battlefield. There is no trust amongst fighters, for one cannot tell if the other has honour or not.”

Genji’s lips twitch. “You must be careful. You are the only one I know of with clear prowess, yet not the motivation at all to utilise it. I need you to be my assassin, and with things going the way they are… this is not how it should be.”

A smile spreads on his face. “Don’t worry, anija, I’ll take the actual battlefield seriously… but you know I can’t ever hurt you, right? Like, it’s actually impossible for me. I always lose.”

Hanzo scoffs. “Stand up. We will do this again, until you take me seriously.”

When Hanzo turns around, Genji stands up with a big grin and narrowed eyes as he stares into his brother’s back. “I always take you seriously.” Genji says, his expression smoothing out when Hanzo turns around, and he rolls his eyes at the cheeky grin that Genji gives him.

“Silence. Strike, again!”

* * *

Slowly, gently, he slips into his brother’s room. Ever so quietly, his feet pads along the bedroom floor and Hanzo sleeps – peaceful and beautiful –as he is bathed in the moonlight. He sits next to his brother, watches the way his chest rises and falls in sleep, and he reaches out and gently strokes Hanzo’s silky hair.

Leaning forward, he brings his brother’s hair to his lips and exhales through his nose. Genji’s eyes slip shut, breathing in the shampoo that his brother has used to give himself a fruity smell, and he eventually backs away to let the strands slip away from his grip.

Gently, carefully, he runs his fingers through his brother’s hair that spreads like the cherry blossoms that fall, artificial in their home just like he is. He is careful not to scratch his brother’s scalp and Genji stands when Hanzo rolls over and curls up into himself. Adoringly, Genji takes in the way Hanzo breathes and smiles with whatever dream he has.

“Mother…” Hanzo whispers and Genji stares at him through shadows, eyes narrowing and his hand settles on the back of his brother’s neck.

* * *

Green is not Genji’s colour, not really. He paints his nails a neon green, eyes staring through the colour as he applies the polish. A bit of colour paints his skin, only a bit, so he doesn’t bother grabbing any acetone to clean it off.

Father gasps next to him, hand reaching out towards Genji and he shifts around. He turns to look at his father, to stare at the gurgling man who waves his arms around frantically, and Genji looks back to his nails.

He really needs to grow them out. He brings them up to his lips to blow on them gently, only once, before he stretches and gets up. He stretches his legs, cracks his knuckles, and then looks back down to his father who breathes in and out heavily.

* * *

He says nothing after that and Genji’s head tilts. His grip tightens around the back of his brother’s neck, and the discomfort immediately settles on Hanzo’s face.

Even in sleep, he is so very responsive.  

He can’t linger in his brother’s room for long, no matter how much he wants to.

* * *

"Mother left because of you.” Genji says. He bends down, his hands digging into his jacket pockets now that polish has dried. “I watched her go. I watched her put the letter down and leave.” His father twitches, trying to spit out words through the garbling mess that is his mouth.

With a sigh, Genji bounces back into standing and turns on his heel. “I loved her.” Genji says conversationally. “It’s your fault she’s gone.”

* * *

But he waits for Hanzo to speak again. He wants to hear his own name pass from Hanzo’s lips, wants to know that he is on his older brother’s mind as much as he is on Genji’s. He waits and he waits, silence invading every part of the room that bathes in the moonlight from the modest window.

When nothing else escapes his brother’s parted, plush lips, Genji sighs and rocks back and forth in his squat before he stands up again.

Gently, slowly, his feet move – glide – across the floor and to the exit. He stops for a moment, just a moment, and looks over his shoulder…

 

 

 

… to take one last look at his father, hands still in his jacket pockets, and he brings up his phone. “Hm.” He turns around once more, his thumb sliding on the screen and unlocking the phone, and Genji brings up the video function.

“Let’s have one final memo before you go, father.”

In his dying moments, poisoned by his own son, Genji records the last few minutes his father has before he passes away.

* * *

His poor sweet brother. His poor, poor sweet brother is the only phrase that repeats in Genji’s head as he slips back to his own room, insomnia overtaking him as well as the restless need to do _something._

Yet, that phrase never once leaves his head. His poor sweet brother. Over and over, it repeats and bounces in his head, and Genji falls down onto his futon and brings his hand up to his forehead.

Poor sweet Hanzo, misses the mother that wants to slit his throat.

Genji smiles, even as he brings his arm down to cover his eyes.

* * *

People always say that history has a tendency to repeat itself.

In a way, Genji guesses that it has. He checks on the skinning knife, presses the tip of his index against the blade and drags it down and hisses when it cuts _clean_ through his flesh. He bandages that finger quickly, then turns around to his brother that is stuck – unmoving – on the table.

The wide-eyed stare that he gets, the horror mixing in with the anger and betrayal… Genji’s lips pull back, revealing sharp, grinning teeth and he makes his way over to the side of Hanzo that has the tattoo. His thumb strokes over the heads of the dragons, over the blue ink, and he gives a pitiful sigh.

“It’s sad, anija.” Is all Genji says before he digs the skinning knife under his brother’s flesh, one hand steadying his older brother and Hanzo’s eyes bulge out. His mouth won’t work for him, but his eyes alone convey all that Hanzo feels and Genji hums.

He is careful with Hanzo, even as the knife slices through his arm like silk and Genji coos. His skin peels away, prettily, beneath Genji’s careful movements and tears stream down his brother’s face freely. His breathing has quickened, and Genji reaches up to turn Hanzo’s head so that he can see everything that he is doing clearly.

The skin peels and peels until Genji has gotten all of the tattoo—and what a mess he has made. Blood splatters around them, staining his white clothes and dirtying the table. The dragons, what little life they have left, will try and keep Hanzo alive before the skin is burnt, and Genji peers over at the biotic medicine that he has stolen.

“Shh, anija.” Genji shushes, even though his brother can’t articulate much of anything. He gets up then, heads over to the cozy little fireplace that the cozy little house has. The roaring fires illuminate the peeled skin in his hands, all pretty, and Genji hums as he throws it into the fire.

He doesn’t dwell on it for long. He grabs at the stolen medicine and injects it into Hanzo’s other arm, the nanomachines quick at work to keep him up and running through all the pain… and to keep him alive for what Genji has planned next.

He grabs Ryū Ichimonji and heads over to Hanzo with a skip in his step.

“Anijaaaaaa.” Genji whines. “I really don’t like your legs _or_ arms.” He beams at still unmoving Hanzo then. “Let’s get rid of them!”

* * *

Genji presses a gentle kiss to Hanzo’s cheek once he is done, having to have injected more into his brother’s body to keep him alive and well. The paralysis has long since worn out, but his brother breathes shakily and can do little else but hiccup and gag from the sorrow and pain.

“You’re so very pretty.” Genji says sweetly. “My sweetest, sweetest enemy.” He lifts his brother up onto his lap and holds him close, presses a kiss to his cheek once more, and rocks side to side. “I told you I always took you seriously, Hanzo.”

Hanzo barely twitches, even as Genji puts a hand on his stump arm and digs his nails into naked flesh. “You’ll heal soon.” Genji marvels. “And when you do, I guess you’ll be an intimate lover of the phrase, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

He chokes on his own bile and Genji grabs Hanzo’s chin and keeps his mouth shut, forces him to swallow the vomit down, and he giggles.

“When I’m bored of you,” Genji says, “I promise to let go.”

* * *

_“Do you love your mother, Genji?”_

_He smiles._

_“Yes! Mama! Love mama!”_

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr here.](http://www.starrelia.tumblr.com)


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